Sick of You
by StBridget
Summary: Greg finally asks Nick out, only to get sick on their date. Nick/Greg pre-slash.


**Disclaimer: CSI is property of CBS and its creators.  
**

This was so not happening. Greg Sanders had finally, _finally_, gotten up the nerve to ask fellow CSI Nick Stokes out on a date, and wonder of wonders, Nick had said yes. Greg was due to pick him up in half an hour, and here he was, sitting miserably on his bed, sweating, shivering, flushed, dizzy, and nauseous. "I am not sick," he told himself. "I am not sick, I am _not_ sick, I AM NOT SICK."

Okay, he could do this. Small steps. Slowly, carefully, Greg got up, finished getting ready, and made his way to the car. "I can do this," he repeated as he sat behind the wheel. He took a deep breath. He was feeling a little better. With luck he could at least make it to Nick's place.

Fortunately, when Greg got to Nick's place, Nick was waiting outside, so Greg didn't even have to get out of the car. He breathed a sigh of relief. If he didn't actually have to move, maybe he could pretend everything was fine. "Hey, Nick."

"Hey, yourself. Where are we going?"

"I made reservations at the Carving Knife," Greg replied. He was regretting his choice now, but he'd done this for Nick, and he wasn't going to back out.

"Terrific! They have the best steaks in town!"

Greg's stomach roiled at the thought of steak. "Yeah, they're terrific," he agreed weakly.

They reached the restaurant and went in, Greg trailing slightly behind Nick. Normally, he'd take advantage of the opportunity to ogle Nick's ass, but all he could think was, "I'm not going to barf, I'm _not_ going to barf, I'M NOT GOING TO BARF."

They sat down, and the waiter poured water for them. Greg took his gratefully and downed half of it in one gulp. That was better. Now his mouth wasn't as dry and cottony, at least.

The waiter took their orders. Nick ordered the rib eye. Greg settled for a bowl of gazpacho. "Aren't you getting a steak?" Nick asked.

"Nah, not very hungry," Greg lied. Well, okay, it wasn't a lie—he wasn't hungry—but it sure as hell wasn't the whole truth. "Besides, they're gazpacho's almost as good as their steaks." That, at least, was true.

"Oh, okay," Nick looked like he was going to pursue the topic further, but changed his mind. They sait in awkward silence until Greg abruptly got up. "Scuse me," he muttered, before making a dash for the bathroom.

After a feeble attempt to vomit up his guts and managing nothing but bile, Greg sat on the bathroom floor in despair. This was just going fabulously. There was the man of his dreams at a quiet table for two in a romantic restaurant, and here he was, in the bathroom puking. Great, just great.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a couple of minutes, Greg dragged himself to his feet and made his way slowly back to the table.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked, a worried frown creasing his face.

"Yeah, fine," Greg lied again.

"You don't look fine."

Greg waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing, really. Our food will be here soon. Let's just enjoy our dinner."

Nick didn't look convinced. "Look, why don't we get it to go? You don't look so hot."

"I''m fine," Greg protested again, but was ignored as Nick flagged down their waiter.

"Can we get our food to go."

The waiter looked apologetic as a busboy approached with their food. "I'm sorry, it just came up. I can get you some boxes, though."

"Yes, please," Nick said, and the same time Greg said "No, that's okay, really."

The waiter hesitated. "Please bring the boxes," Nick said firmly, and Greg didn't protest. He was too busy staring at his soup, wondering how in the world he was going to force it down.

"Okay, he'll be right back, then we can just take it home."

"No, it's fine, I'll eat it." Greg bravely took a spoonful of soup and swallowed. After a couple of seconds, he decided it was, in fact, going to stay down and took another. "There, see? Everything's fine. Enjoy your steak."

"If you're sure," Nick said doubtfully, cutting into his steak. "I'll just eat a little of it, then we can go."

"No, take your time," Greg said, taking a little more soup. "I'm good." He was, in fact, feeling a little better. The soup was helping. Or maybe it was just not moving.

Nick had a few more bites of steak, but didn't seem to be enjoying it with his usual gusto. When the waiter returned with boxes, Nick carefully packaged up his steak, then reached for Greg's soup. "Look, I think we should get you home. You're still not looking so hot."

Greg didn't protest. He was feeling better, for the moment, but he certainly wasn't feeling great. "Look, I'm sorry about this. I wanted to treat you to a nice dinner, and then this happens."

Nick shrugged. "No big deal. I'll take a raincheck. Now, let's get you home."

Greg nodded and stood up, and the dizziness washed over him again. So much for feeling better. "Um, Nick, I hate to ask, but would you drive?"

"Sure," Nick agreed immediately. "Here, let me help you out." He slung an arm around Greg's waist and slung Greg's arm over his shoulder. Greg thought about protesting, but really, he wasn't feeling so hot, and it was good to have someone else shoulder part of the burden, so to speak.

Nick got him settled in the car and put it into gear. They'd barely cleared the parking lot when Greg grabbed the trash bag he kept in the car and vomited violently into it.

Nick glanced over at him. "You are definitely _not_ okay."

"No, shit, Sherlock," Greg replied, wiping his hand across his mouth. God, that was gross. No sooner had he had the thought than he vomited again. "What gave you the clue?"

"I should have guessed when you just ordered soup. You never eat that little, and you love a good steak. I'm sorry, man, I should have seen it sooner."

Greg waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to let you down."

Nick reached out a hand a placed it on Greg's knee. "You're not letting me down. You're sick, Greg, you can't help it. We could have rescheduled."

Greg just stared out the window, fighting to keep what little remained in his stomach from reappearing. Way to go, Greg.

Nick drove them to Greg's house and went around to the passenger side to help Greg out. "Let's get you inside and get settled."

"But how will you get home?" Greg protested weakly.

"Don't worry about me. I'll manage. I'll call a cab, or maybe I'll just crash on your couch. You probably shouldn't be alone anyway."

Two hours ago Greg would have been doing somersaults at the idea of Nick staying at his place, but this was not the way he envisioned it. This was going to go down in the books as the worst date ever. No matter what he said the contrary, Nick would never go out with him again. Never.

Nick got Greg into the bedroom and laid him on the bed. As if reading his mind, he said, "Just take it easy for now. We'll try this again when you feel better."

Greg curled up on his side. "You don't have to just to be nice."

Nick kneeled down bedside the bed and looked Greg in the eye. "I _want_ to. I was looking forward to this date, and I'm not going to be cheated out of dinner with the guy I've had a crush on for years just because of some stupid stomach bug."

Greg looked dubious. "You've had a crush on me?"

"For years," Nick confirmed. "I never thought it could possibly be returned. I can't tell you how overjoyed I was when you asked me out."

"Me, too," Greg said, unsure whether he was agreeing with having a crush for years, or being overjoyed when Nick said yes. Didn't matter, they were both true.

"Do you want to brush your teeth and change, or do you just want to sleep?" Nick asked, changing the subject.

Greg carefully considered the question for a moment. "Sleep, I think."

"Okay," Nick rose to leave, and Greg reached out for him.

"Stay, please." Why did he say that? Despite Nick's revelations, Greg was sure the last thing Nick wanted was to stay with him while he was germ-ridden and reeking of vomit.

To his surprise, Nick motioned Greg to move over and lay down beside him. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

Greg grinned weakly. "If you can put up with me at my worst like this, it must be true love."

Nick smoothed Greg's hair away from his forehead and kissed it gently. "You know it, babe."

Snuggling contentedly into Nick, secure in the knowledge that he would still be there when he woke up, Greg drifted off to sleep. Maybe this date wasn't so horrible after all.


End file.
